Take A Bow, Dear Pretender
by musicalsoul85
Summary: In which Maura enlists the help of a friend and resolves to determine Jane's true feelings by concocting a potentially disastrous plan of action. Stage One includes exposing Jane to a masterclass on the correct process of wooing Doctor Isles. This is more lighthearted than my usual ventures and is rated T for now, but will most probably move up to M at some point.
1. Sidelines and Suggestions

Doctor Maura Isles reached for her glass of wine and brought it to her lips but did not sip from it. She peered over the rim at her fellow patrons, wondering exactly how long it might take her friend to arrive and furthermore, if she could make it until that point without being approached by the dark haired man at the opposite end of the bar. _Sir-smiles-a-lot_ was probably a lovely fellow, and perhaps on another occasion she might have been a tad more inclined to pursue his obvious intentions, but Maura simply had no patience for dealing with someone like him that evening.

With a soft sigh, Maura eventually allowed some of the crisp, sharp liquid to pass her lips. Having selected a light, refreshing white wine to wait with, she was now thankful that her admirer had lost the opportunity to offer to purchase her a drink. A tiny part of her felt a glimmer of pride that even though she was well into her thirties; clearly many people still found her attractive. That alone was enough to boost her self-image on days when she felt low, but now she found herself wishing that she could fade easily into the background and wave the unwanted attention elsewhere.

Maura was aware of the fact her outfit would do little to deter appreciate eyes of the man she had been avoiding making eye contact with for the past ten minutes. Having only left work a mere half hour ago and deciding against heading home for a quick change, Maura was clad in her usual attire. A tight pencil skirt accentuated the body she took great pains to maintain through a healthy, substantial diet and regular exercise. Her hair, which remained resolutely styled no matter how many times she had to sweep it away from her face and into a ponytail during autopsies, hung in loose curls around her shoulders, which were covered with a deep purple blouse.

She could feel a momentary sense of panic mounting when her admirer from the other side of the room started to rise from his stool with his gaze locked on her, but then she happened to turn around and catch sight of her friend marching into the restaurant with all of their usual flair. Maura exhaled in barely disguised relief and lifted her hand in greeting to draw their attention towards where she was seated.

Doctor Christopher Baxter sidestepped a waiter as he sauntered through the restaurant. Maura was struck once again by his effortless ability to exude confidence whatever the surroundings. The shirt and tie he had presumably selected for work that morning remained immaculately pressed. Indeed, it looked as though Baxter had pulled on his entire ensemble directly outside the building judging by its crisp freshness. The tall, svelte, sandy haired man flashed a toothy smile and a jaunty wave as he picked his way between the tables, suit jacket tossed casually over broad shoulders.

Maura smiled privately as she cast her memory back to their first meeting. She could hardly believe it was almost two years since he rescued her from a serious case of social anxiety after her presentation at a conference. There had been such pressure during her preparation for that evening. Maura spent countless hours writing and redrafting her introductory speech and had rigorously and relentlessly bombarded herself with potential questions until she felt positively ill. The prospect of detailing their push for investments in a new DNA sampling and storing of information that would allow Doctors to identify their charges with the use of an electronic database was terrifying enough, without the added horror of having to mingle with the distinguished guests afterwards.

That evening, presentation completed, Maura found herself embroiled in a repetitive, tedious discussion with one Doctor Charles Riordan. Even now she could almost smell the alcohol that was pungent on his breath as he leaned into her personal space to leer at her findings and what she had previously recounted on stage. He was a perfectly rude and unpleasant man indeed. Doctor Baxter had appeared at her side just as she was beginning to feel the sting of tears in her eyes at being so thoroughly confused as to what Doctor Riordan's issue with her happened to be. Baxter took her by the arm and excused them both from present company to escape out onto the front lawn where there was a breeze to cool her warm cheeks and still the threat of tears.

Maura smiled at the thought of how courteous he had been. Baxter pretended not to notice that she was close to breaking down and instead launched into a rather long, arduous introduction to allow her a moment to compose her emotions. It had taken Maura, despite her lack of ability to interpret social cues accurately, only a few minutes to work out that the precocious, charming Doctor, who had saved her from potential embarrassment and a slump in her colleague's belief in her abilities, was in fact a homosexual.

Baxter had broken off from their conversation to follow the pert, full backside of a passing maître d carrying a tray of refreshments and when he eventually turned back to resume the conversation, he raised one slightly playful eyebrow as if to say _'caught red handed.'_

Although Maura Isles was yet to shake off a lingering sense of worry and self-doubt within any friendships that weren't between herself and Detective Jane Rizzoli, she was quite secure in her relationship with Christopher Baxter. As a well-liked and sought after pioneering surgeon and research participant, Christopher moved in many differing social circles. That was both his curse and his forte. He possessed an inherent ability to perform with excellence in situations where his conversational talents were required, and then afterwards, sink back into old habits of watching the more insufferable of his acquaintances with subtle disdain.

Maura found the manner in which Christopher dealt with friends, colleagues, acquaintances and even clients to be both mystifying and admirable. A natural people person, Christopher Baxter was as smooth as you like without being neither smug nor smarmy with it, and despite her initial reservations, Maura couldn't help but grow to like her now treasured friend.

"Maura, you look stunning as always," Christopher leaned in, wafting a wave of expensive and pleasant smelling aftershave her way as he kissed both her cheeks. He immediately noticed the disappointed chap with his eyes latched onto Maura who had previously been working up the courage to approach the distinguished Doctor. On instinct, Baxter looped an arm around Maura's waist as he ordered his first beer of the evening. To any onlookers, they would look every inch the happy couple. The dejected gentleman sloped off towards the restroom not a moment too soon, much to Maura's relief and Baxter's quiet satisfaction.

Now that Christopher Baxter was up close, Maura familiarized herself with his features once more. The designer stubble marring his defined, almost regal chin was a misleading sort. His was a fatigue well earned. Another Doctor born into a wealthy family, Baxter made the choice to work for his own fortune and respect. Now, as the owner of a private practice, a respected Doctor and a renowned investor in a multitude of on-going research projects, Christopher was content with his lifestyle. Growing up, he suffered a great deal of resentment towards his estranged parents. As with Maura, Martha and the elder Christopher Baxter were incredibly wrapped up in their own lives and rarely spared enough time to spend with their only child.

As two kindred spirits in a highly competitive field, Christopher and Maura found an unlikely ally in one another. They sought respite in the other's company during conferences and seminars, presentations and dinners attended by those who genuinely wished to offer assistance with their money, and those who simply craved the attention it brought them.

Maura blinked herself back to the present and smiled as she affectionately squeezed the muscled arm around her, "Same to you Christopher, is that a new suit?" she commented sweetly, running her fingers over the expensive and expertly tailored crease of the material beneath her fingertips.

Her date for the evening rolled his eyes dramatically as he took a less than dignified pull from the chilled bottle of beer in his hand, "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Chris?" The deep, rich tone of Doctor Baxter's voice was a welcome blessing for his patients. His bedside manner was unrivalled, and many of the people he dealt with daily felt instantly soothed and reassured by the confidence, care and empathy that managed to weave itself into every syllable he uttered.

This instruction had become something of a personal, good natured battle of wills between them. Ever since they met Maura had insisted on addressing him by his full name, regardless of the fact nobody but his ageing parents ever bothered with calling him Christopher. Indeed, the words _call-me-Chris_ had been said so often it now felt like a catchphrase. Maura had even penned his Christmas and birthday cards with that same sentiment.

Doctor Isles chuckled, stepping delicately down from her perch as Chris snatched up her purse, impatient to order dinner after a long, tiring day on call. "Well, _call-me-Chris,_ let's find a table shall we?"

With a mock bow, Chris led the way over to an empty table and swept out Maura's chair for her before collapsing into his own with a weary sigh. The low lighting gave their faces an ethereal glow, the sort usually found on groups huddled around dying camp fires. There was a momentary lull in conversation between them whilst they got comfortable and they allowed the steady hum of chatter around them to fill their ears, both of them basking in the sense of normality and relaxation. Baxter scrubbed his talented hands over his slightly haggard face for a moment as Maura looked on, worry etched into her features.

"When was the last time you slept Christopher?" She asked, concerned. It was not uncommon for her friend to go through extended periods of time where he grew so engrossed in his work schedule, or so dedicated to a patient, that he often forgot to take care of his own needs. He was like Jane in that respect. Indeed, Christopher Baxter was reminiscent of Jane in a number of ways, and Maura wondered if she had pursued a friendship with him because of those striking similarities, or if she simply attracted a certain kind of company.

Baxter grinned lopsidedly, the left side of his mouth curling up further than the right, giving him an almost dopey appearance. Maura was all too aware of the charm the Doctor had at his disposal, and the ways in which he implemented it. That charming smile won the hearts of many investors, and soothed even the most fraught patients.

He shrugged noncommittally and handed Maura a menu whilst simultaneously opening his own, "I sleep plenty Doc, don't you worry about me," Chris winked, prompting a lock of his unruly mop of tousled, sandy hair to fall forwards into his line of sight. Doctor Baxter's washed out blue eyes were yet another of his many attractive traits. This again, coupled with his affable, charming manner and good looks, gave many the impression that he was less intelligent than they. This notion could be dismissed within seconds or weeks; depending on how often one came into contact with Christopher Baxter on both a personal and professional level and to what extent he revealed his true self.

Maura tipped her head to one side as she considered the man sitting across from her. She wasn't quite sure where he had picked up his strange drawl of an accent. She knew that he travelled a lot when he was in his late teens and early twenties, and continued to do so even now, and she deduced that this muddled inflection was a result of a refusal to remain stasis in any one place for more than a year at a time. He was fond of travelling to Texas, where he might have sourced the slow, drawn out sounds of some of his intonations. Chris also entertained frequent business trips to the UK, mainly England and Scotland, and took great pleasure in bringing back increasingly hideous gifts etched with garish flags and pictures of red buses and the elusive loch ness monster which were dispatched to friends and colleagues with gleeful attempts at the difficult accent to accompany them. She supposed it was possible he had developed some of the harsher, broader hints within his tone from the time he spent there.

With a tut that signified her disapproval without the need for words, Maura perused the open menu in her hands, already fully aware that they would most likely order their usual feast. After a further few moments of perfunctory deliberating, Chris glanced up and signaled for the waiter at a nod from Maura.

After ordering fresh crab cakes, lasagna with garlic bread as his meal, as well as a feta cheese salad and chorizo carbonara for Maura, he also added a side portion of fries and then a sundae to share for desert. At a glimpse of Maura's raised eyebrows as the waiter hurried away with their orders and a request for their most popular wine, Christopher chuckled, "I skipped lunch today Doctor, I can feel you judging me, please stop."

Maura smiled as she took a sip of iced water, "I worry about you Christopher, I'm allowed to be concerned," she chastised him good naturedly.

With his usual laissez faire attitude, he dismissed her with a wave of his hand and reached for the bread the waiter left on their table in a small woven basket. Tearing off a sizeable chunk, Chris popped the bread into his mouth and chewed silently for a moment, savoring the first morsel of sustenance he had consumed since that morning. A sliver of information he would choose to keep from his friend.

"So," he said, swallowing thickly, "How's work been? And your team, and the human you have stashed in your guesthouse, oh and Bass of course," Baxter smirked, his questions coming out quick. He was used to firing off enquiries in a hurry when dealing with patients, and those habits often carried on into personal life.

Maura laughed easily, helping herself to a piece of Baxter's bread, "The _'human' _I have staying in my guesthouse is my colleague's Mother, and a friend, as you well know," she intoned, smiling as Christopher grinned at her, fully aware that he was joking, "As for everyone else you mentioned, they're just fine, thank you for asking."

Chris tipped back into his chair, eyes twinkling as the waiter slid their plates in front of them and Maura thanked him kindly. When they were alone again, he finally said, "Oh Maura, I think that Detective Rizzoli is much more than just a _'colleague,'_ wouldn't you say?"

Doctor Isles steadfastly ignored the blush rising in her cheeks and the hives threatening to bloom on her chest. She was grateful that her blouse covered much of the affected area, should she be struck down with a case. "Not this again…" She muttered under her breath, busying her mouth with devouring some of the delicious salad she had grown so fond of during their evenings here. An unassuming little Italian eatery they found by chance one night after being thoroughly let down by the previous establishment they had dined at.

Her friend waggled his eyebrows as he dipped a hearty piece of crab cake in its tart sauce before pointing the fork accusingly at her as he commented, "I didn't mention her last time, that gives me the right to talk about it for twice as long tonight," with a triumphant flourish.

Maura shifted uncomfortably, pushing a lettuce leaf around on her plate as a distraction from Christopher's intrusive stare,

"Well at least if the power goes out in here we can all continue dining by the glow of your cheeks, Doctor Isles," Baxter droned, not unkindly, tapping the back of Maura's hand affectionately as he continued to spear and consume his starter as though those innocent crabs had personally wronged him at some point or another.

She couldn't help but smile lamely at Christopher's banter. It had taken her a while to become accustomed to his sense of humor, just like it had with Jane, but now she understood that this verbal jousting was all in good humor and friendship.

Swiftly changing the subject, Maura said, "Work has been difficult this last month, even more so than usual. We've had a sharp spike in homicides and a spate of suicides in our jurisdiction. There's been so much paperwork and reports to wade through recently I fear I may have to consider a change and pursue a career in writing," she sighed, feeling her heart rate calm as the conversation veered into safer territory.

Chris clucked his tongue sympathetically and although he was listening intently to Maura's woes, his mind was whirring ahead to the next possible opportunity he might have to mention Jane Rizzoli.

"And due to the extra pressure from above, everyone has been exceedingly irritable and prone to snapping at one another, including myself I'm ashamed to admit…" Maura trailed off as their plates were removed and their glasses refilled, "Hopefully now that we've all managed to complete our reports we can start fresh on Monday morning." After a moment's pause during which Maura quenched her thirst with the exquisite wine on offer, she then added, "What about you?"

Doctor Baxter couldn't help but flinch. Today had been a killer. The whole week, maybe even the entire month had been pretty much consistently awful, and the last thing he wanted to do was rehash everything when there were other, more interesting topics of conversation they could be having. He decided on the short version of events, "Shit," he finally said, with feeling, "Basically, shit. We were a man down in theatre this week and we had about fifteen bodies all rushed in from a serious smash on the interstate, we're still trying to identify a couple of them," Chris shook his head, mentally cursing the budgets cuts the department he had been working in recently had suffered.

Maura winced, imagining the hectic and pressurized environment that she thankfully did not have to deal with in her cool, calm lab. Hearing of Christopher's experiences of dealing with living patients was a factor in her continuing feeling that deciding on a career as a pathologist was the right path for her.

"But anyway," he said with forced cheer, "Like you said, fresh start on Monday."

Their main courses arrived and the tense moment was forgotten, they both began eating with renewed fervor, more so Doctor Baxter, who scarcely paused for breath until he was halfway done with his piping hot plate of lasagna. After one particularly large bite, he tried a different tactic with his friend. With feigned innocence, he said, "So, have you any plans for the weekend?" pushing his fork around casually.

Maura's expression instantly brightened and Chris found it difficult to look at her, feeling a hard stab inside his chest. The Doctor's love life was a topic she avoided at all costs with him because she knew he could see through her indifferent façade with practiced ease. Baxter found it incredible that the Detective could still remain so oblivious to the way her friend truly felt about her, for he could see it writ plain as day on Maura's face whenever she spoke about Jane.

"Jane and I are spending the day together tomorrow, I'm not sure what she has planned for us quite yet but knowing her, it will be something... Fun," Maura's smile faded for a second as she noticed her reply sounded awfully rehearsed, and when she next spoke up it was more to herself than to Christopher, "I feel like it's been so long since we've done something like that. She's just been so… Wrapped up in Casey, and I…" she shrugged painfully, shredding the material of her napkin into thin strips whilst Baxter's intelligent eyes narrowed as he watched her lose some of her carefully protected self-control.

"You feel side lined," He interjected softly, not wishing to add to Maura's personal suffering by pushing her further than she wanted to go, but the only thing he wanted from her was a sharing of burdens.

Maura nodded, her head bowed, bottom lip trembling slightly, "Yes, recently I feel Jane would much rather be around Casey than myself," she sighed, running a hand through her hair tiredly.

Chris reached for that same hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. In the past, Maura might have been thrown off course by that action, having not been used to such forward gestures of support, but now she took it in her stride and offered him a watery smile of gratitude.

"Maura…" Baxter began, but his fellow Doctor immediately raised her free hand to ward off the oncoming part of his sentence. She knew what he was about to say, for she had heard it all so many times before, but this evening she was weary of the entire situation. Her life seemed to be stuck in a perpetual state of heartbreak and sorrow, and there was a limit to how often she could discuss her agony before it started to have an impact on her daily life. It was much easier to simply pretend that everything was just fine and bottle up the love she had for Jane and bury it deep in the recesses of her subconscious.

"No, hear me out," Chris drawled, pulling away from Maura as their desert was plopped down and two large, long spoons presented to them. He allowed Maura the first bite before digging into the overflowing sundae himself, like a man who had not seen food in weeks, "I have an idea, though I'm not sure you're gonna like it…"

Maura tipped her head to one side in silent invitation. Two years as this man's friend and confidant had taught her that sometimes, he tended to meddle. He had his friend's best interests at heart, that was a guarantee, but Maura Isles was nevertheless wary of what was next on tonight's agenda.

Brandishing his elongated spoon like a sword in battle, Christopher eagerly shuffled forwards in his chair to meet Maura's gaze beneath the dim lights above them. The reflection of the silverware in his eyes appeared to make them gleam with an intensity Maura had never seen before.

"Jane is stubborn. Agreed?" He said shortly, and Maura nodded hesitantly, "Jane is stubborn, I find that to be the most likely reason why she's still insisting on pursuing this ill-fated relationship with Jones," Although he had never met the man in person, he had deduced his own conclusions from the polite, yet fraught manner in which Maura discussed him, and he could not prevent the sliver of distaste making itself known when he pronounced his name, "A part of her is still waiting for the way she felt about him as a teenager to resurface, and this attachment that's born itself out of their rekindling relationship is doing her more harm than good. She lets him get away with things she would never let any other person have the opportunity to do so, regardless of gender, correct?"

Maura's jaw trembled as she nodded, remembering Jane informing her that Casey decided to mention his deployment to Afghanistan the morning after sleeping with her. The twisted manner in which the two of them relate to one another on a personal level made Maura feel sick to her stomach. Although it might not be her place to pass judgment on her best friend's relationship with the man she professes to love, she couldn't help it. Up until now she had swallowed the comments she desperately wanted to make, to force Jane to realise that she was slowly changing herself, altering her personality in ways she should never have to do, simply to ascertain to the manner in which someone else would prefer her to act. It was abhorrent.

Christopher watched the myriad of conflicted emotions pass over Maura's face with a sympathetic, and yet wholly dispassionate eye. Through mentally blocking the bias he had as Maura's friend, he was able to look beyond what she_ wanted_ to hear, and see what she_ needed_ to hear as two entirely differing subjects.

"Just because you don't approve of the way Jones treats your friend doesn't make you a terrible person Maura," Chris said gently, dipping his spoon into the ever dwindling sundae and twirling it expertly, searching for the elusive pieces of brownie he knew lingered near the bottom of the glass, "You are entitled to your own opinion of him, you don't automatically have to like him just because he's Jane's…." He shrugged, unable to call the man her boyfriend for obvious reasons.

"Whatever he is to her. Yes, he's a highly respected and dedicated soldier, and although I sympathize with the injury he suffered, and you do too, that doesn't mean I have to admire the manner in which he handles his and Jane's relationship. Frankly, I don't understand it. Jane's a strong woman, if everything you tell me about her is true, and I believe that she has it in her mind that Jones is her best bet for… You know, husband, kids… Blah blah blah," Chris waved his hand blithely, "So what if he pops up for a quickie and then disappears for months on end, '_he's a good man_.'"

With an eye roll that would put Jane Rizzoli to shame, Chris tipped the last piece of brownie onto Maura's spoon, hiding his woeful regret at giving up the treat with an encouraging nod, and set his mouth in a firm line of satisfaction when Maura obediently ate the chewy substance with a satisfied hum. Despite the fact he often delayed taking care of his own needs during working hours he would never stand for someone he cared about doing the same. _Perhaps I should learn to lead by example_, he thought with a grim sort of self-awareness.

"What are you proposing?" Maura asked cagily. She didn't particularly care to hear the answer to that question, but she was also desperate to hear whatever words of wisdom might suddenly pour forth from her intelligent friend's mouth.

Christopher stroked his strong chin with two fingers for a long moment, apparently lost in thought. Eventually, he replied, "How about…" he drawled out the words, "We try and give her a different perspective on what's right in front of her. She's probably considered you as a romantic partner beforehand," when Maura started to shake her head, about to refute this claim, he smirked at her and continued on, in a slightly louder tone, "I _guarantee_ you, she has, even if it was merely in passing. Thing is, she is fully aware of the fact that anyone you date has never been exactly _'marriage material,'_ let's face it, murderers, serial killers and dreadful Doctors, not stellar stuff is it?"

Maura couldn't help but grumble her reluctant agreement.

"So," Chris intoned, as if he were lecturing a student, "She doesn't have to worry about losing you the way you feel you've lost her. She can swoop in after your latest disaster and give you a shoulder to cry on, threaten every man that comes near you, and she gets the best of both worlds."

Doctor Isles opened her mouth to protest this character assassination of her best friend, but then thought better of it. She might as well let him finish now.

"Now, what I'm suggesting is to give her some healthy competition. Namely, _me_," he said with a grin, pointing at his chest, "I'm a total catch, and if I wasn't gay, I'd probably have proposed to you already," he winked theatrically. The two of them shared a much needed chuckle at the thought of such a mismatched marriage becoming a reality.

"I'm a catch, and you're a catch, and if Jane thinks she's going to lose you to someone like me, someone who isn't particularly dull, someone who doesn't have homicidal tendencies, someone who genuinely cares about you…" Doctor Baxter left that hanging there as Maura funneled his suggestion through the inner workings of her mind, "She's going to be positively green with envy."

Maura thought Christopher sounded gleeful at the prospect of this endeavor, and this forced her to speak up doubtfully, "I think this all sounds rather melodramatic Christopher, and I don't like the idea of being so dishonest with my best friend…"

"_Oh contraire_," he beamed, "Let me be the dishonest one here, I'll handle the deceit and lies and you just have to go along with it. And hey," Chris shrugged as he gulped the last of his wine, "If it all goes tits up, at least you'll know for sure that you should start picking out bridesmaids dresses."

She bristled at the mere thought, baring her teeth unconsciously as she pictured Jane walking down the aisle and into the waiting embrace of _Casey bloody Jones_. Maura wondered if perhaps some part of her had always suspected that she would need Doctor Christopher Baxter to concoct this demented, potentially disastrous scheme one day, considering she has never introduced him to Jane.

Granted, he was always moving from one hospital to the other and it was difficult even for her to pin him down on a night he wasn't on call, but there had been opportunities for the three of them to meet. And she never insisted upon it. She doubted Jane even knew his full name.

"Think on it Doctor Isles, whenever you need me, I'm at your service," Christopher said rather solemnly, lifting his hand to signal for the bill as Maura worried the skin of her lower lip, a pensive expression on her face.

* * *

**A/N:** This is not quite my usual style so please; let me know your thoughts on it! This won't be an epic story, maybe around the ten chapter mark or so? I'm not sure yet, but anyway, let the chaos commence.


	2. A to B to C

When Detective Rizzoli pushed open the door that led into the morgue she was met with a gust of cool air and she fought the urge to shiver. No matter how many times a day she entered the Doctor's domain she could never fully prepare herself for the sudden drop in temperature. It often made her wonder how Maura could parade around all day in skirts and dresses when it was cold enough that if she had been a man, her balls would have become goddamn ovaries.

Shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her dark slacks, Jane carefully stepped inside the morgue so as not disturb Maura's work. She watched from the safety of the sink area as Maura continued to stare down into the gaping incision she had recently made in the cadaver's chest. This was a rare sight. It was not often that Maura could be found daydreaming on the job. Indeed, Jane couldn't recall the last time she had ever found Doctor Isles directing less than one hundred per cent of her concentration upon whatever task she was conducting.

Maura's brow was slightly furrowed, and her hair had been tucked under a scrub cap to prevent cross contamination. A lock of her reddish blonde hair had escaped the confines of the plastic cover and had curled around loosely around her left ear. Jane wrestled with an inexplicable urge to hurry across the room and tuck it back under the cap, as if to prove to Maura that she understood the high standards she upheld, that Jane was capable of comprehending the logistics of an autopsy, that she respected everything Maura's occupation entailed just from that tiny gesture.

The Doctor's face was partially shielded by a pair of wide, blue rimmed goggles, but Jane was convinced that if she were able to look in her best friend's eyes at that precise moment she would find it to be vacant, void of expression. The thought disturbed her a little, she didn't like the fact Maura was yet to notice her presence. Nothing escaped the attention of Doctor Isles, it was common knowledge. She might find it difficult on occasion to follow some conversational topics, but she was an incredibly intelligent, observant woman, and Jane felt a flicker of unease at the flat, unexpressive planes of Maura's usually vibrant face.

Unable to come up with something to convey the concern she was experience, most likely without probable cause, Jane backed up against the sink and announced, "_Doctor Isles!_ Slacking on the job! I'm horrified," in her best attempt at a school teacher's scolding tone.

Detective Jane Rizzoli's highly unique, rather raspy voice alerted Maura to her arrival in the morgue, however, at that particular point she had been gazing into the chest cavity of the deceased male specimen on her table for the last ten minutes or so, and she came close to dropping her scalpel when Jane startled her so. Maura stepped back a little, her hand hovering somewhere above her heart as Jane looked on smugly from her position by the sink. "Jane! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, especially when they're engaged in a delicate procedure such as this!"

Jane snorted, gesturing vaguely at the gunshot wound in the man's forehead, "C'mon Maur, the guy's not gonna get anymore dead, it's not like I interrupted life saving heart surgery here is it?" Doctor Isles narrowed her eyes at her best friend, who was gazing back at her, wide eyed and innocent.

"Remind me why I agreed to allow you in my morgue whenever you pleased?" Maura muttered darkly under her breath as she returned her attention to the body lying on her steel table. This man's death had been billed as a suicide from the moment the assistant Coroner arrived on scene, but Doctor Isles had insisted on conducting a full autopsy, not satisfied even with a preliminary examination. Detective Rizzoli had quietly mentioned that she sensed the scene might have been staged. A gun lying just a little too close to the dead man's hand, a blood pattern that didn't seem to quite match the predicted trajectory of the bullet, no suicide note to be found and an elderly neighbor who swore blind that she heard raised voices the night before. Too many things just didn't add up, and Jane wanted confirmation as to whether or not she had a homicide on her hands, or simply a whole load of coincidences.

Jane shrugged, pulling her blazer a little tighter around her shoulders as she watched Maura's hands move with practiced, controlled ease.

"You found you missed my sparkling wit and amazingly accurate hypothesis," Rizzoli suggested helpfully, quirking one side of her mouth into a grin even though Maura wasn't looking at her. Jane sighed and then admitted, "You got sick of me constantly calling down here to check if my results were ready."

Doctor Isles nodded, "Indeed, you are here at my behest Detective Rizzoli, do not force me to banish you back upstairs whilst I deal with this in peace." Her tone was sharp, but there was an unmistakable note of humor in her voice that Jane immediately recognized.

Jane gasped, "No way Maura, Korsak and Frost are eating donuts right now and you know what a sight that is," she broke off, shaking her head as though warding off unpleasant images.

Maura pointed her scalpel at Jane and smirked, "Well I suggest you quiet down Detective, or I'll have Susie escort you out," she said, eyes twinkling. By this stage, Doctor Isles' expression had brightened considerably and she seemed more like her usual self. Jane still couldn't blink away the image of Maura standing there, looming over the dead body before her, with the kind of vacant stare mostly reserved for the corpses she dealt with.

"Oh not Susie," Detective Rizzoli said, raising her hands defensively as her voice became high pitched in an imitation of terror, "Please _no,"_ she retorted sarcastically, pivoting around to wash her hands, keeping an ear attuned to the delightful chuckle Maura released at Jane's words. She had devoured one of those donuts herself mere minutes ago and had been slowly growing irritated by the stickiness coating her fingers.

Jane managed to remain silent for around four minutes at the most before she eventually released yet another loud, dramatic sigh and caused Maura to glance up over the rim of her goggles and roll her eyes impatiently. "Okay, you win Jane," Doctor Isles said, placing her bloody tool down on the tray and peeling off her gloves, "I'll fill you in on what I've found so far. Or, indeed, perhaps it would be more accurate to explain what I _haven't_ found," Maura looked down at Mr. Peter Lavern for a moment and then pressed on, "There doesn't appear to be any sign of a struggle that might have occurred if someone had attacked this man, however," she beckoned Jane over to the table with one finger.

"What I did find was some trauma around the nose and mouth area…" Maura looked up at Jane, tipping her head to one side as though calculating something. "Most of the bruising was confined to the inside of the victim's mouth… Jane, do you mind if I try something?"

Detective Rizzoli peered across the autopsy table at her friend and colleague suspiciously. "What kind of something?" she enquired warily.

Maura untied her surgical gown and dropped it into the waste disposal before walking smartly towards the sink to thoroughly wash her hands. After that was done, she stood beside Jane and held out her hand.

"Tell me what you feel when I put my hand against your mouth and press against it, okay? Tell me exactly what you feel," Maura instructed almost amicably and, before Jane could protest, reached out and cupped Jane's mouth with her hand, mashing her upper lip against her front teeth.

Jane wriggled around, murmuring a few muffled curse words before realization dawned on her and she gently pried away Maura's deceptively strong hands. She stood there, still holding onto Maura's wrist, and then said, "My teeth cut into my lip," she glanced at Lavern and jerked her head, "You think someone tried to shut him up by doing that? Or holding something against his mouth and nose?"

Doctor Isles fidgeted uncomfortably, "I'd only be hypothesizing, but judging from the extent of the bruising, I suspect that this man had something pressed against his mouth with enough force to cause numerous contusions and some burst blood vessels."

"You don't think…" Jane's mind had a tendency to jump from one conclusion onto something that might appear entirely unconnected at first, but would soon turn out to be a fact later down the line. Her brain worked differently from Maura. Where the Doctor followed the evidence and moved from _A to B to C_ and so forth, Jane's mind would leap from _A to P to Z_ and to hell with the gaps, she could fill them in later. "Maybe the neighbor was right about the argument, and whoever this guy was arguing with tried to shut him up by doing what you just did to me… And maybe… Maura, do you think you'll be able to tell if he suffocated?"

Maura cocked her head, "Jane, do you think the gunshot is simply a cover up?" she asked, watching in silent awe as Jane's expression grew more animated as time went on and her theory settled into place inside her sharp mind. There was something incredible about bearing witness to Jane as she worked through the possibilities of her current case.

"I dunno, I just have a feeling. Humor me Maura, do what you gotta do, I'm gonna head back upstairs. Call me if you find anything, alright?" Jane said, already backing up towards the exit. Maura watched her rapid retreat, her gaze drawn to the Detective's long legs as she hurried away.

* * *

By the end of their respective shifts the case was solved. That had to be a new record, at least according to Detective Frost as he snapped a set of cuffs on Mr. Lavern's friend who happened to be in the system for a possession of drugs charge from a year ago. After conducting a more invasive examination on the body, Maura had unearthed a number of interesting things. First of all, she found that his sternum was cracked, indicating an assault or that someone had tried and failed to perform CPR on his lifeless form. Additionally, she located traces of some kind of material lodged between the victim's teeth, and after sending it to the lab for analysis, it was found to be some kind of synthetic fiber, the source of which was yet to be identified.

Furthermore, she discovered traces of saliva on the victim's neck that did not match his DNA. After some theorizing, Jane decided to have the victim's clothes sprayed with a mixture of starch and iodine, which would reveal any more traces of the foreign DNA. There was a particularly large spot on the shirt, and Jane, Frost and Korsak agreed that it seemed like someone spat on the deceased.

After testing the DNA they found a match quickly and found Mr. Michael Jones hiding out in his mother's basement. After conducting perhaps the shortest interview to date, Jane had a signed confession in exchange for a reduced sentence from murder in the first degree to manslaughter. Apparently the two friends had been arguing over some money Lavern had given to Jones, expecting to be repaid in full. The argument escalated and Lavern threatened to call the police. Knowing that he would be prosecuted for possession of narcotics and would receive a jail sentence, Jones panicked, and whilst he tried to silence his friend, accidentally smothered him with a pillow from the dead man's couch.

Overall, Jane couldn't say she felt good about the investigation. Jones was a pathetic creature, clearly out of his mind on drugs, but he seemed genuinely sorry for what he had done. In any case, as she signed off her final report on the matter for the evening, she failed to produce the same satisfaction she usually found after solving a case this quickly. Even though the Lieutenant had commended her judgment and actions from today, and both Frost and Korsak had voiced their admiration for the way she followed her instincts, Jane didn't feel much like celebrating.

When the boys headed over to the Robber, she found herself driving in the opposite direction from her own apartment. It wasn't until she pulled up outside Maura's house did she realise how late it was and that her friend might not want to entertain her unannounced arrival. However, after wrestling with her conscience for a minute or so, Jane decided she would take that chance.

Maura opened the door almost before Jane stopped knocking and stared knowingly at her friend for a long moment. "I thought you might come here," the Doctor said, opening the door wider and stepping aside to allow Jane entry, which she gladly accepted, wiping her feet before stepping into the warmth of Maura's home which contrasted starkly with the cold morgue she spent so much time in.

Jane smiled sheepishly at her best friend as she closed and locked the front door behind them both. "There's beer in the fridge and Chinese take out in the microwave. I already set the timer so just press start. You can take a shower first if you want; you know where I keep your t shirts and sweats. There's a movie starting in a half hour I think you might like so… Go on," Maura said, giving Jane's shoulder a light push, "Be quick" she squeezed Jane's arm for a fraction of a second, letting her know without superfluous words and reassurances that she was welcome here, in her home.

"Thanks Maura," Jane said humbly, and Maura once again watched as Jane beat a hasty retreat towards the guest bedroom.

Doctor Isles settled back down on her sinfully comfortable couch and tucked her legs under her body, swiftly tossing a blanket over her body before lifting her phone. She had two unread text messages and was pleasantly surprised to see one was from her Mother asking how she was. Now that was certainly progress. After responding to that in detail, she opened the other.

It was from Christopher. They had arranged to go for breakfast tomorrow and he was simply clarifying the arrangements, but as soon as Maura looked at the words there on her screen she started to wonder if perhaps now was the right time to introduce Jane to the idea that she was being pursued by Chris. Maura still felt uncomfortable with the whole concept of lying to her best friend, but she was also growing increasingly desperate. Only that morning had Jane been gushing about Casey's looming return from Afghanistan, and Maura had to firmly excuse herself under the pretence of heading to the ladies room to ward off the impending onset of tears or making a snide comment.

Maura was still considering this predicament and her moral stance on it when Jane returned from the bathroom and began pottering around in the kitchen. The simple, honest domesticity about this whole arrangement stung at Maura's mind like a scorpion's tail. It seemed unlikely that Jane had never noticed that their friendship certainly skipped over what could be regarded as universal boundaries, and Maura tended to reflect on their practically non existent personal space more often than not these days.

The Detective slumped into the couch with a contented sigh, plopping her beer down on a coaster and sitting closer to Maura than could be deemed necessary on such a large surface area, something that did not escape Maura's attention. As the Doctor started the movie, Jane's cell suddenly produced a charming little ring that sent a shiver down Maura's spine, for she recognized it as the tone set to Casey's name.

"Oh, Casey's arriving back a day early," Jane announced, her fingers galloping over the keyboard, "Two weeks then," she said quietly, almost as if she was unaware she was speaking aloud. Oh but Maura was aware, very aware. When she had finished typing Jane tossed her phone onto the coffee table and continued eating, blissfully clueless about the raging emotions jostling for prime position on Maura's face.

Maura Isles sucked in a deep, steadying breath, and then set her jaw, "I'm sure you're looking forward to seeing him again," she said flatly, and watched as Jane nodded, her mouth full.

"Sure, yeah," Jane replied, apparently too engrossed in the movie playing on Maura's television to inject much enthusiasm into her tone. "Say, you busy tomorrow? I was thinking we could maybe do something…"

There was a moment where Maura considered cancelling her plans with Christopher and spending as much precious time she could with Jane before Casey arrived back in Boston and received most of the Detective's time and attention. But then, in what she might later regard as a few minutes of temporary insanity brought on by a sudden rush of adrenaline and rage, Maura said, "Oh I'm afraid I can't Jane, I already made plans with Christopher," making sure to keep her voice light.

Jane's head turned almost robotically and Maura forced herself to avoid eye contact for as long as possible before she eventually turned and met Jane's narrowed, suspicious looking eyes. "Who's that?" Jane said gruffly, as though half expecting Maura to inform her that she was going out on a date with Satan himself.

"Oh we met at conference," Maura said blithely, surprised at the ease with which the words were coming to her even under the intensity of Jane's gaze, "He's a well renowned surgeon, highly talented and respected in his field," she added, consciously injecting an air of innocence into her tone.

Jane grunted and faced the television once more, but her apparent dismissal of the subject did not last long. "So what are you and Christopher doing tomorrow then?" she enquired casually, but Maura noticed she had placed her cutlery down with deliberate motions and had redirected her full attention towards Maura.

Doctor Isles shrugged, "I think we're going for breakfast at one of his favourite restaurants, and then from there he's promised to entertain the entire day, so I'm not exactly sure what we'll be doing," Maura decided that by withholding as much information as possible, it was naturally persuade Jane to seek more from her.

"Sounds interesting," Jane said, but her tone did not reflect what she had said, "How long have you known him Maura, y'know… I don't wanna sound like your worried parent or anything but uh… You haven't had much luck in terms of dating recently…"

Maura smirked, "I've known him quite a while Jane. Christopher is different," she said slowly, letting the words sink in, "Much different," she added as Jane shifted on the couch and then moved into the kitchen to wash her plate. Doctor Isles privately wondered if Jane appeared so rattled because Maura had declined her invitation in favor of another, or if she was jealous. Whichever it was, she was determined to find out now that she had somehow endorsed this scheme Baxter had come up with just days ago. She would follow the evidence as it was revealed to her.


End file.
